


You Terrible Thing, You Terrible Thing, You Beautiful Thing.

by Thewalkingcorpse



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 2x16, Angst, Blood Must Have Blood Part 2, Clexa- romance, F/F, Lexa point of view, a soul mates au, and what it should have been, basically just Clarke being a badass, but without all the magic-y type stuff, my take on season 3, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 06:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3599631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thewalkingcorpse/pseuds/Thewalkingcorpse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You wait for months. You make the journey to Polis alone, and then you wait some more.</p><p>She doesn't come back, and you're not surprised, not really.</p><p>------------------------------------------------------<br/>Or the one where Clarke finds herself in the woods, and Lexa has total hearteyes for the Sky Princess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Know What You're Doing Here, Made Your Intentions Clear

She doesn't come back, and you're not surprised, not really.

  
You meant what you said, she'd do the same thing; and from what you heard from your scouts, she already has.

  
Word spreads like bush fire around the camp; word of Skai Prisa Clarke, of _wanheda_ , taking down the mountain, even without your formidable forces and with the weight of betrayal weighing heavy. Clarke takes down the mountain, and you want to weep for her innocence; you only ever wanted to save her from war, from death. You never considered the consequences of winning a battle of that magnitude, what the lives lost could do to someone with a heart weeping blood and hands still soft with shelter, you always thought you would be there to carry the burden with her.

  
Except you are Heda kom Trigedakru, you forged the Coalition of the Twelve clans, you have defeated entire armies, from TonDc to past the vast expanses of the Dead Zone; you have sat upon the throne from adolescence, and held onto your crown made of blood and bone of your challengers. You earned the respect, and even love, of your people, of your soldiers; you have led them to peace, and through war. You know the name of every single one of your warriors, you would die for them, and they for you.

  
_You strike the Mountain Men to their knees, revel in their blood, and drown the ridge in the substance; the smell of salt and metal is repugnant, you think it smells like justice and victory. But then the sniper from the ridge, the one Clarke saved, rises from his hiding place; where he's been waiting for the bloodshed to end, like the cuwan that he is. You reach for your blade, not realizing that in your relief you had it sheathed, but he drops his weapon, hands outstretched; you're not foolish enough to believe that he would surrender to a 'savage' such as yourself, no matter your station. But he holds out a radio device, much like the one Clarke uses to communicate with the Ark, and you hear a voice address your name by informal insolence. He offers you a deal unlike any offered to you before, even within the Coalition, he offers to save **thousands** of your people; all of your people. You know you cannot afford the time to think about your answer, but blue eyes flash in betrayal and soft lips are pulling away and **Clarke,** but you cannot think about her now. Missiles are trained on Rimonde and Marrland, not to mention the 50 or so soldiers positioned behind the doors of the Mountain fortress; you cannot think about Clarke right now, you cannot think about her friends or her people, you cannot think about how she may look at you after. Your people come first, 3 thousand for 47, there should not even be **any** doubt. You make your deal, it feels like making a deal with the devil. You take a moment, wonder if killing Emmerson would make the deal null and void, you don't risk it. You know what you're doing, you're procrastinating, you don't want to face Clarke, to see her cold eyes upon your face shouting accusations. You think that you would deserve it, to have her shove her gun to your temple, jus drein jus daun. You have killed her people, she will kill you in retaliation, but not before you save your people. "Gyon op emo, gyon gon de trimani."_

  
Your scouts claim that Clarke abandoned her people at the gates of Camp Jaha, leaving behind even Bellamy, and continued on to TonDc before abruptly turning back before ever reaching the gates. After that they lost sight of her, with no explanation as to how, and with no news of where she hoped to go. All you know is that she isn't here, with you, it is likely she will never return to TonDC. She will never make the journey with you to Polis. You don't think she should be alone during time after war, your people believe it is a time to celebrate, and at their feasts they celebrate Wanheda. You believe that it is unfair that she fought so hard for the safety of her people, only to place herself in exile to protect them; what hasn't she given up in her plight to save her people? Perhaps Clarke had been right, she had never seen a future past rescuing her people and now she wonders the forest lost, without purpose. If you did not have your people- or your pride- to worry about, you'd scour the woods for your Skai Prisa, bring her with you to Polis. But alas none have hands as tied as those of a Commander, and you cannot abandon your people in your search of Clarke kom Skaikru, destroyer of the mountain, princess of the sky.

  
"Heda! Heda! Raun de tris! Skai Prisa!"

  
You can't breathe, your skin feels too tight and something is blocking your airway; you think it's your heart. You don't doubt your warrior's word, but you still cannot allow yourself to blindly hope, not when it comes to Clarke. You practically fall out of your tent in your haste, but all eyes are not on you anyway... They're facing the treeline. You smooth down your hair and tidy up your armor, though you have no need for the heavy metal; perhaps you have been waiting for the prisa for a while, waiting for her to return in her search for blood, it is after all what you would do. You think no one has noticed you yet but there, closest to the tree line, is Indra and her eyes are straining to find you in the crowd; she finds you, and you feel that if she were to forget herself for just a moment, she might smirk at you.  
You know what you are doing, why you refuse to focus where all eyes are trained, you do not want to look at her; you fear her steel eyes may burn your soul, or whatever is left of it. But you are prideful, and you cannot allow her to know, to know that you are afraid; she can never know the guilt you feel for abandoning her, for abandoning her people. Finally your eyes meet ocean blue, and they are just as storm ridden as a hurricane on water and just as unforgivable, they hold no malice though. No malice, no challenge. After one glance you realize how hungry your gaze is for her, and your eyes are greedy as they devour her figure. You notice her face then, your eyes travelling the expanse of skin, and you know why everyone stands stock still around you.

  
This isn't the Clarke you remember.

  
She's smaller than you remember, bones protruding through the gaunt skin of her cheeks, and her face is riddled with blood and bruises. Her clothes are ripped and hang loose from her frame, she looks as if she fought the Pauna single handedly, knuckles torn and dripping blood.  
She looks like bloodlust and death, she wears war well despite her ruggard appearance; you see a gleam in her eyes that wasn't there before, you see danger in the way she holds herself and in the way she smiles at you. You've never seen her so beautiful, you've never seen her look more like a grounder; no more is Clarke kom SkaiKru, she is now Clarke kom Trigedakru, Trigeda Prisa Clarke. You want to bow to her power, you want to fall to your knees before her feet, you want to kiss away her smug grin; you do none of the above, you simply push through the crowd, to Clarke's seemingly utter delight.

  
"Heya, Heda Leksa. Ai sek klir rein kom de hukop."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cuwan * coward
> 
> "Gyon op emo, gyon gon de trimani." * "Get them up, get to the forest."
> 
> "Heda! Heda! Raun de tris! Skai Prisa!" * "Commander! Commander! In the trees! Sky Princess!"
> 
> "Heya, Heda Leksa. Ai sek klir rein kom de hukop." * "Hello, Commander Lexa. I seek safe place of the alliance"


	2. Blood Is On Your Tongue, As Well As Your Hands; Archaic and Content You Just Wash Them Off.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You need to say something, but you are afraid it will be something foolish like 'I beg for your forgiveness' or 'I think I am in love with you'. You find that you are more terrified that you could be in love with Clarke, something you forced yourself never to do, rather than the fact that you want to fall to your knees and admit failure and beg forgiveness; something a Commander never must do.  
> By the time you figure it out she is almost at the threshold of your tent.  
> "You have until morning to agree to the alliance, before I disappear again."  
> And then she is gone.

You're taken aback, you try to contain the stoic and detached mask you have learnt so well, but you think Clarke sees through you anyway, sees the pride in your eyes as she speaks your language; her smile widens and she raises an eyebrow at you in challenge.

"Hei, Clarke kom Skaikru. Pro gon ai houm. Chit ste ain ste yun." You speak clear and confident, you feel anything but, you turn to the closest guard, Ryder and murmur into his ear. "Gyon em dina en cot."

Clarke bows her head respectfully, before turning her gaze upon Ryder, she gives him an conspiring smile and his usually dependant stoic mask, gives way to a sheepish smile; you think that this is because he knows he had been caught by Clarke in her time among the trees. You are not surprised, of course Clarke knew that you would keep eyes on her, and really it had only made sense to send Ryder in your stead, as she had forged a comradeship with him during the time before TonDC. In the time before you allowed it to bury 250 of your people alive, a time where he began to protect her, not under order, but in obligation and admiration. Well you cannot blame him, Clarke is a leader worth dying for; even more so than you, the commander.

Clarke gets pulled aside by Nyko next, and he takes her hands gently in his before clucking his tongue in disapproval, he makes a move for the healer's tent but Clarke says something quietly to him. He nods in assent, and soon she's striding confidently towards you, your people part the way and Clarke nods wearily to them; as if she isn't sure if they are parting the way out of respect or fear. You think it could be a little bit of both. You wonder if you should be irritated that your guards would allow Clarke to approach you so brazenly, considering that the alliance had become null and void in the wake of your betrayal or considering the fact that, if the reports are to be believed, Clarke is more of a threat to your people than any 'hostile' would appear. Reasons being that one: Clarke's petite frame and soft eyes can be deceiving, no one would ever think her to be a threat in first glance. Two: Clarke burns with a compassion for her people that is almost too bright to glance upon, what is more dangerous; a man willing to kill for power, or a leader desperate to save her people? Three: You could never be as affected by any other person on this Earth, in this life or any other, as you are by Clarke. She is intoxicating, intelligent, passionate and cunning. She is as despairingly beautiful as a rose, and her sharp tongue can prick as bad as its thorns. You know better than to let your guard down around the blonde haired beauty, and yet... Clarke reaches you, but comes to a stop a foot away, before bowing her head once again. It is meant to be a sign of respect, of acknowledging someone of a greater position of power-you are not entirely sure if that is true of you and Clarke anyway- but when she raises her head there is that damn mischievous smirk again. When your eyes start to linger on the bow-like shape of her lips, soon it is her eyes that you focus on, what you see in them shock you; they are dull and exhausted. Such a contrast to the fire you saw moments before battle, and in the morning inside your tent all those fateful months ago, when she backed you threatenly into the war table and talked of weakness and trust. You can still feel the wood pressing against your lower back, you can feel your heart racing and your mind going blank, you are sure that the signs of your arousal had taken place in the pupils of your eyes. Well it was hard not to tremble at the sight of Clarke with murder in her eyes, and fury on her lips, so dangerous; the complete opposite of how Costia had deigned to treat you. Costia had always been self-aware of the difference in your stations and aware of your legacy as Commander, she was always gentle in her handle of you, too afraid to overwhelm you with words shared in argument or to speak her mind to push your boundaries; such were not the traits of an amorous lover. Whereas Clarke...

"Heda, I'm sorry it took me so long to reach you, I was... Occupied by a clan to the north. But I am here now, and I wish to accompany you to Polis, if the invitation still stands that is." You do not mean to hold your breath, but you are afraid that if you do not hold it in, it may escape you, along with your power of speech.

"You wish to stay with the Trigedakru?" _You wish to stay with me?_ To say you are astonished is an understatement, you have not even _heard_ word from Clarke in the passing months, let alone been in her company and yet...

"I believe that I have held anger and vengeance in my heart for too long, in my months away I have discovered things about myself that have made me realize that I am not so different from you, as you once said to me. By killing all those..." Clarke takes a shuddering breath, you think it is the first time she has lost her facade since she has arrived here, you hate yourself for being relieved. Clarke visibly pulls herself back together to continue on, no trace of the Old Clarke to be seen. "By pulling the lever that irradiated the mountain, I chose my people over another's, I recognised the same battle of morality in your eyes that night. It was not an easy decision, to punish the innocent for their leader's crime, but to survive we do what me must. I sacrificed the mountain for a mere 44 of my people, you sacrificed my people for hundreds, if not thousands, of yours. In this scenario, if anyone were to be begging for forgiveness, it would be me." Clarke gives a pointed look around her, to acknowledge the growing crowd of restless warriors, then gestures to your tent. You nod to her, and reiterate your orders to Ryder, before following her inside.

"Kampraun, ba shof of. Skai Prisa gaf res."

________________

Clarke stands tall and rigid in your tent, you wonder if she remembers the brief moment before battle, when you threw away all fear of rejection and of consequences, when you kissed her; when she kissed you back.

"Clarke..." It slips out unwarranted, you do not mean to sound so _heartbroken_ , as if your heart were something fragile to break. But Clarke looks to you all the same, her expression blank and her eyes on fire, before reaching out a bruised and bloody hand to stroke the war table. Perhaps she is thinking about the moment where her hunger took a hold of her body, moved her forward on pure animal instincts as if she were a hunter, cornering her pray; well at that moment, plagued with longing and adrenaline and maybe even a little fear, you were. You have always been helpless in her gaze, when your eyes are locked with hers you are no longer Heda, you are Lexa; just Lexa. In that moment you were just as transfixed, so interlocked that you allowed the girl with hair of gold and veins thrumming with stardust, to entrap you against that very table she touches now. You do not admit to her that in that moment you had hoped that her anger and frustration would manifest into something more, you do not tell her that you had wished for her to shove you into that table and kiss you senselessly, or how you desired for her to lay you out on that table to have her way with you. You only wished that she had taken advantage of you, had used you, so that you may blame your lustful thinking on that moment, on her. Instead you find yourself waking up in the middle of the night, your tent bleak and utterly devoid of _something_ , panting and sweaty with Clarke's name on your lips in your moment of passion, inspired by only the tease of her lips and the promise of 'not yet'. It is only your desire for her that spurs on the dreams and dangerous thoughts, only the memory of her keeps you sated and warm at night, you deny your harem of lovers in favour of a night thinking of her and only her. You do not utter a word of these thoughts, you only wait for her to speak, hopefully to tell you where she has been for the past 7 moons, but most likely to order you about. You can not tell what you would desire more.

"I have not come for me, I come only for my people, I am told that you will not reform the alliance. I am also told that the only reason why, is because in my absence my mother has once again taken leadership of Camp Jaha. So here I am, in her stead. If you agree to the treaty, so that we may have peace, I will return as Heda of Skaikru..." Clarke gaze turns soft then, her eyes holding yours, taking your breath away. "I will return to you." Your breath stutters, fire runs like liquid through your veins, your mouth is dry and your hands are sweaty.

"I-if you think... If you do not... If you are only willing to join me because you think that is what I want, you should know that I would never force you to stay, we are equals Clarke. We are equals, and frankly, I only refuse to deal with your mother because she is insufferable and thinks herself superior to us. You have never undermined my culture, or my beliefs, you have always made an effort to understand. Though we may not agree on many a subject, we are similar in both our ambitions and our way of leading. You understand what it means to put your people before yourself, your mother has never understood that, she has never understood the sacrifices that needed to be made to save us, to survive." You finish your rant and have somehow ended up exactly where you wanted to be, inches from Clarke, breathing in her air and revelling in her warmth.

Clarke is looking at you as she did the morning of the burning in TonDc, where she burnt the body of the boy she loved, where you told her of your Costia; of _hodness laik kwelnes_. She is looking at you like she has never seen you before, there is something else there, something you think you have seen before; you do not dwell on it.

"I want to save my people, yes, but I could think of worse fates than spending my time with you and the Trigedakru. I have come for peace, Lexa, and maybe," Clarke looks away then, fiddling with the edge of the Ice Nation's land map, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip. You remember this, this is what started the chain of events that led to the kiss, this exact position that proved Clarke's vulnerability. "Maybe I _did_ come here for me, maybe my people are not the only ones who are looking for peace. I think it's what I have been searching for these past few months, I think I was trying to find it out there, but perhaps..." She looks up at you again, searching, searching for something. You wonder if it is there, what she is hoping to find. It is. "Perhaps you have kept it with you, maybe the only way to find peace and to forgive myself, is to first forgive you. To forgive you for betraying my people, for betraying me, for betraying your heart. To forgive you for what your actions made me do, for forsaking your heart, and to forgive you for breaking mine."

Her voice cracks with emotion when she whispers the word _mine_ , and you need to say something, but there is something constricting your chest and tears are threatening to spill from your eyes. You need to say something, but you are afraid it will be something foolish like _'I beg for your forgiveness'_ or 'I _think I am in love with you'_. You find that you are more terrified that you could be in love with Clarke, something _you_ forced _yourself_ never to do, rather than the fact that you want to fall to your knees and admit failure and beg forgiveness; something a _Commander_ never must do.

By the time you figure it out she is almost at the threshold of your tent.

"You have until morning to agree to the alliance, before I disappear again."

And then she is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah I'm sorry, I know the update is over a week late, but I just finished school for the term and it has been brutal.  
> But now I'm on holidays, so Yay! Updates should be on time! Woo!
> 
> Thank you so much for all the encouraging comments! I am so grateful for all of your support. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I look forward to posting the next one, which will be presented in Clarke's point-of-view... So finger's crossed that I can get it up in time...
> 
> Chapter titles comes from one of my favourite bands, The 1975, and it is called Antichrist. Though the message of the song doesn't really fit the message of my fic, I really think these particular lyrics do.
> 
> I will be doing something similar for each chapter, sometimes it will be that the chapter title comes from a song/album/artist/band that I think fits, or sometimes it will be a song that inspired the mood of my fic, or maybe even just what I was listening to at the times. So... Enjoy, I guess xx
> 
> "Hei, Clarke kom Skaikru. Pro gon ai houm. Chit ste aim ste yun." - Hello, Clarke of Sky People. You're welcome to my home. What is mine is yours.
> 
> "Gyon em dina en cot." - Get her food and bed.
> 
> "Kampraun, ba shof of. Skai Prisa gaf res." - Keep close, but be quiet. Sky Princess needs sleep.
> 
> 'Hodness laik kwelnes.' - Love is weakness.


	3. Now, To The Doorway You Run, To The Girl Who Isn't Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don't know whether you should be irritated that she thought she had claim to your first home on Earth, or whether there is any more implications behind it, Lexa made it very clear that her people would always come first and that she would choose her head over her heart; you can't help but think that maybe some part of Lexa is still holding on. You wish that she wouldn't.

_You don't know where you are going, per say, you just know that you're going **away** ; away from the guilt and the weight of leadership, the expectant stares of your people. Away from lies and deceit, a mother who still blames you and your best friend who drowns in **your** guilt, away from the stench of the dead and the dying. You leave to protect them; you stay away to protect yourself. You start with walking, you walk until the sun falls beneath the earth and then you are running, the breath of every soul lost burning hot on your neck. You think that maybe, if you can just reach TonDC, the ghosts may leave you to your betrayer and allow you the pleasure to kill her with her own blade; the blade she gave you. It is, after all, the Commander's actions that led to the eradication of the mountain and the ghosts will only allow you a reprieve should you destroy the savage leader. You're halfway there before you realize that there are no ghosts and that killing Heda would probably only result in the death of your people, and after everything done to save them... Well it isn't the most brilliant idea you have had to date, you keep it as an option though, but only in your dreams. Only in your most vivid nightmares. _

_It takes you a while to reach the edges of TonDc with you no longer being hounded, like a fox on a hunt, by the ghosts you are in no real hurry to reach the graveyard; yet another people eviscerated because of you, because of **both** of you. You are unsure of why, exactly, you thought that arriving at TonDC would be more beneficial than staying at the Ark. The guilt still weighs unbearably heavy here, perhaps even more so, with the reminder of what destruction you and Lexa could wreak together. Whether you be working together, or working against each other, there has always been casualties in the war between you and Lexa; in the war between Skai People and Tree People. You can only imagine what death you would have wrought had you and Lexa come out of the mountain victorious, what armies you would have slain together, what rebellions you would have squashed to remain leaders; what hearts you would have broken had you decided you were ready. It isn't hard to imagine how toxic your relationship would have been, how Lexa needed control over every aspect of what she could control, or how you are a leader in your own right and therefore would not allow her to rule you; you would have fought her on everything and she wouldn't have had the patience to find it endearing for long. She would have killed and tortured to prove her love, to prove her point, to protect you and to avenge you._

_You back away from the treeline slowly, attempting to minimize the ratio of sticks and twigs to soft unassuming dirt, your steps hesitant and your mind even more so. This was a mistake, how could you have ever believed that killing Lexa would absolve you of **anything** let alone your guilt, Lexa betrayed you to save her people; you slaughtered an entire mountain to save yours. Your actions are your own, and though you no longer believe that killing Lexa would make you feel better, seeing her is still not an exemplary idea. You're almost free from the forest, when a snap of a twig reverberates throughout the forest, startling the birds from their perches and you from your thoughts. You think that it could have been you or even an animal, but as of late your luck has been almost non-existent and the odds of you not being caught or murdered out here is just as non-existent. _

_You contemplate calling out for Trigedakru, in fact the words are on your lips **sis au** , though you're more convinced that screaming could be a better option; you don't get the chance._

*

TonDc 2.0 is a carbon copy of the city that it was before, well apart from the giant steel structure that stands in the place of where the old subway tunnel had collapsed from the missile, you would recognise the atmosphere burnt hull anywhere. Lexa had the dropship destroyed and rebuilt into a new war council building, it looks sturdy and unbreakable but whether it could withstand a missle, well that is yet to be determined. You don't know whether you should be irritated that she thought she had claim to your first home on Earth, or whether there is any more implications behind it, Lexa made it very clear that her people would always come first and that she would choose her head over her heart; you can't help but think that maybe some part of Lexa is still holding on. You wish that she wouldn't.

Lexa is a physical manifestation of your guilt, the truth is that you allowed your feelings to cloud your judgement, you allowed Lexa to crawl inside your head and you allowed her to plant her seeds; you allowed her to mold you into her image. She only ever wanted you to be strong, to reach your potential as a great leader, but in the end she only ever made you weak. You're afraid that being back here is stirring up those feelings again, you can't be sure that you won't finish what you set out to do when you first left the Ark, you can't be sure that you won't kill her. But with these feelings originating from passion and frustration, you're afraid other feelings may also be stirred up, no less murderous and dangerous but _more_. Being here again, it's hard to forget that once that there was a lot of those feelings, feelings where true weakness lies; it's hard to forget that once Lexa's feelings had manifested into something physical, something like a promise. _Not yet_. Not now. Not ever.

"Are you ever going to tell me?" You're still standing in front of the dropship, you were supposed to have met Lexa inside at dawn but the sun is well past the skyline now and your frozen skin has all but thawed, Lexa eyes you expectantly; her eyes are softer than you have ever seen them. You hate her for being weak, when she never allowed you the same courtesy. "Are you ever going to tell me what happened to you out there?" She is so close now, breath mingling with the warm breeze, her usual braided locks loose and tickling your skin. You hate her.

"I don't see how it matters now." You avoid her eyes, you don't want to see the warmth in them, you want to imagine her as Heda kom Trigedakru; nothing more, nothing less. You instead focus on the life around you, on the life that was rebuilt here, the way that the people always seem to be moving and talking. You have never seen peace time here, it's something to behold, mostly because they're appear completely _human_. The warriors no longer hide behind masks of bone and death, the people cook food and sew clothes, they build and they learn; just like every other civilisation. You imagine that a similar scene would be playing out back at the Ark right now, how your mother, and many of the people of the Ark, could ever believe themselves superior is beyond you. You're both just two civilisations, trying to survive, no matter the means; no matter the price. You meet eyes with Nyko as he exits his tent, he looks exasperated and maybe a little fond as he gestures towards you, well you never did make it back to the healer's tent last night. The thought makes you glance down to your knuckles, they're dusted in bruises coloured in the galaxy and edged with the earth, you may have a few breaks; nothing you're not capable of healing yourself. But you're a coward.

"Of course it matters, Clarke, you could have been badly hurt out th-"

"Nyko seems to require my presence, if you have not an answer for me yet, I will leave you to decide." You don't see the hurt in her eyes, but when you turn to look at her Lexa is gone and the Heda has returned in her stead, stoic mask in place; you're irrevocably relieved.

"Of course, Clarke. We will discuss the terms of the treaty once your..." She glances at your hands in disdain. " _Injuries_ , have been dealt with." She then strides towards the council room, back straight and chin high, the demeanor of a Commander. _It's about time._

_________________

_You wake up in a cell, because of course you do, and the temperature is vastly colder in the room then in TonDc, so it's fair to say that you are no longer in Virginia. You can feel a growing pain rising from your spine and into your head, you don't think it's serious but you still feel groggy and your muscles are frozen and numb, you guess that you've been out for a while. There's cotton and metal in your mouth, and your wrists are rubbed raw and dipped in caking rust, you've probably been sitting there for at least a day. The cell is minimal, the walls are crumbling, and the bars are rusting metal and warped in places. It is also completely bare, save for you and the chair you are tied to, no windows and no company._

_You figure that you've been thoroughly searched, you don't bother checking for your gun or for any other sort of weapon, you're content to wait for whoever kidnapped you to present themself; although you're not entirely convinced that it wasn't Lexa herself who kidnapped you. A scare tactic to intimidate you, to remind you that you're still at her mercy, truce broken or not. You start screaming then, you don't know what you're screaming or why your screaming, all you know is that someone **has** to come. Someone kidnapped you for a reason, otherwise you'd be dead. Sure enough the sound of heavy boots against concrete could soon be heard echoing around the chamber, making crumbling chunks of concrete to rain around you, you wonder if you should be afraid; mostly you're just pissed off. When you left the safety of the Ark, it was in the hopes that you could gain back some of the freedom you lost when you took on the role of leader, it is a cruel irony to find yourself trapped in a literal cell as a literal prisoner._

_The sound becomes clearer as it nears towards your location, your hearing has already grown accustomed to the limited light available causing your other senses to run on overdrive, between that and the few weeks spent among the Trigeda people the sounds begin to separate. You can hear 6 pairs of separate footfalls, all but one treading heavily upon the ground, you can hear the harsh and hushed whispers of a foreign language-similar to, but definitely not, Trigedasleng- the voices belonging to that of 5 men. 5 men, 1 woman. **Heda.** They arrive at your cell door, the men creating a human wall around, who you assume to be, the Heda. They wear rough dark grey furs and, much like the Trigedakru, carry long blades and hunting knifes, though theirs were crafted with smooth bone and by someone with great craftsmanship and great deal of skill and time. The men also had their hair tied back in intricate braids like the Trigeda warriors, but theirs held evidence of melting snow and sea-salt rather of stray leaves and sweat, and tribal scarring marring their faces._

_The door clangs open, you're stricken to find that it was never locked in the first place, and the warriors move to surround the inside of your cell, leaving the woman in full view. At first you think she looks a lot like Lexa, but they don't look alike at all. Where Lexa is dark and petite, this Heda is fair and statuesque, in her late 50's, her dirty blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun, and tribal scarring standing out on pale skin that rivals yours. It's the way she holds herself that reminds you so much of Lexa, spine straight, shoulders back, head high; always making sure that she is the most imposing and important person in the room. She, too, wears dark grey fur, her cloak billowing out behind her blending in to the gloom of the cell. She wears an intricate looking crown, of a sorts, that sits around her temple; it looks to be made of pure white bone. Not a Heda than, a **Queen.** You're in the Ice Nation. You're in the Ice Nation, and the last time Lexa kissed someone she, too, ended up here; most likely in this very cell. _

_And she hadn't made it out alive._

_"Manda rive Ski, Klark kom Skaikru, 'Skai Prisa', Wanheda. I am Queen Nia. Welcome to the Ice Nation."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... At least the wait wasn't as bad?  
> I'm sorry! Okay?! I feel terrible, but it is up now, so please read it. I'm hoping that maybe the promise of a tease of Clarke's 'time away' might be enough to make you stay, but I guess we'll find out.  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, and comments are always welcome even if they're just to tell me what I've done wrong or any ideas for following chapters.
> 
> CHapter title comes from James Vincent McMorrow's Look Out, it's a pretty trippy song but something about it resonates in my soul, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
> 
> Also once again, thank you for all the overwhelming responses and support, you guys are my lifeblood, wouldn't be here if it weren't for you.
> 
>  
> 
> "Ae Manda rive Ski" * Hello Commander from Sky. (I've completely made up the entire Ice Nation language, but it sort of relates to how the Trigedasleng was created... So good luck with that:))  
> "Klark kom skaikru" * Clarke of the Sky People  
> "Skai Prisa" * Sky Princess  
> "Wanheda" Commander of Death


	4. And if you are a ghost, I'll call your name again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke does not return to the cold steel of the War room, nor does she turn up for any meals. You think it is just as well, you have yet to come up with an answer for her, but time is slipping away and you are afraid that it may not matter anyway; you cannot find her and she may have already left. 
> 
> You feel like she has taken something vital with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know! I know! I am a horrible liar, and I deserve to die, whatever.  
> I won't insult you, or myself, by making excuses so I'm just going to leave not one, but *two* chapters here.  
> Enjoy???

Clarke does not return to the cold steel of the War room, nor does she turn up for any meals. You think it is just as well, you have yet to come up with an answer for her, but time is slipping away and you are afraid that it may not matter anyway; you cannot find her and she may have already left. You feel like she has taken something vital with her.

When your numerous searches have passed with no sign of her, you take to the forest; alone. You attempt to find any traces of her, you are, after all, the greatest tracker of the Trigeda. But after hours of fruitless searching, and a sun burying itself into the dirt, you have found not a footprint nor any evidence that she had ever been there at all. Which should be impossible, given that you followed the path she made into camp the morning before, and being that there had been no rain nor wind since her arrival. It is as if she had never been there at all, as if she had been a dream; you know this not to be true.

Only the most well trained and valued trackers, or warriors, could make little to no trails whilst treading the forest floor; Clarke is neither. Well at least she never used to be.

 _I was... Occupied by a clan to the north..._ There are very few clans laying north from TonDc, aside from Polis which lays North-West, and Luna, if the rumours are to be believed, lying North- East. Polis is the capital city of the West Coast, with buildings hundreds of feet tall and steel walls to protect from attack, the odds of Clarke having been allowed passage inside were non-existent; well at least it would have been before the Mountain. You are no longer sure if the old rules still apply; Clarke changed something vital and ancient when she fell from the sky and defeated a century old foe.

You never cease to be amazed by her will for survival and her will to save her people.

"Heda, Skai Prisa don kom bakop." Indra whispers in your ear; though the search had not exactly been subtle in its execution, it would not be wise for your people to be aware of Clarke's disappearance and why it has you panicking so acutely. Especially since you yourself are unaware as to why.

"Mochof, Indra. Ai na gyon au em nau."Indra lies a gentle hand on your shoulder, halting your progress, before dropping it quickly; as if burnt from the simple touch of you. You realize that she is embarrassed and ashamed of having touched you without permission, without reason, in front of your people; if you chose you could view it as an offence. You do not, you are too plagued with thoughts of Clarke, of Skai Prisa and her time among the trees. But Indra reached out for you for cause, and it would be unwise to ignore her council.

"Chit ste em op, Indra?" She meets your eyes with great reluctance, her shoulders stiff and her hands clenched; she is afraid of you.

"Ai dula nou gaf gyon op de pah au de tombom, daun ste kom en de Prisa, Ai jos gaf meme yu au chit de prisa ste abe au. Yu gon nau teik yu passe gyon op de pah au yu sad klin, why ai ferd yu don stot au teik."

"Speak plainly, Indra."

"Clarke has been missing for months, Heda. She was able to allude Ryder, one of our most promising trackers, and disappear without trace. Most of us believed her to be dead, and yet she has returned and to what? Broker peace? This is not personal, I respect the princess and her courage, but I am not certain that after the... Abandonment of her people at Maunde, that she is be trusted."

"Em pleni, Indra. Sin in yu teisa."

"Ai giza, Heda." Indra meets your eyes briefly before lowering them in submission, she then turns on her heels and stalks off into the crowd, calling for Atohl and Caris. There is a brief moment where the crowd separates completely, as they part way for Indra and her seconds, and the two sides of the crowd form a rift; two sides, divided. It seems fitting; for what, you are unsure.

_________

You storm into Clarke's tent shortly after. You are angry, and flustered, and you have no idea why that is exactly. You think that you could blame it on Indra and her insubordinate attitude, or the fact that she questioned Clarke's loyalty to you, but truthfully you are more mad that Indra voiced doubts that you had already fretted over. You are mad that you have, in fact, allowed your feelings for Clarke to blind you from the truth; the truth being the whys and how and whereas that have been stacking up since she disappeared.

You are so engrossed with your thoughts and grievances that you do not bother the courtesy of announcing yourself, choosing to simply stride through with no warning into Clarke's personal tent; the tent that she is currently stripping off her clothes in.

You do not move, you are unsure if you even can, and instead watch as the last of her shirts are inched off. You have imagined this moment many, many times before, mostly at night with only the memory of how her body felt during your brief kiss as a guide; of course you have never seen her body, but whenever you did imagine it her skin had been fair and flawless, smooth like silk. That is not the sight you are greeted with now, her back splayed with scars and bruises, some familiar, others not so much. Some of the marks appear to be from a whip, others from the heated edge of a blade, many from simple knife punctures; none deep enough to kill, but deep enough to scar, to mar Clarke's beautiful skin.

You gasp, you cannot but help it, it slips out in a moment of shock and weakness; it is hushed, barely loud enough for you yourself to hear, but Clarke hears. She whips around, already holding a shirt with one hand to her chest and a dagger in the other, her grip is strong and her eyes are hard. You think that once she recognises you that she would drop her arm, the one with the blade, her body relaxing as she lets out a breath of relief. She does none of the above. She keeps her arm raised, her eyes keeping yours captive, and she appears to be waiting for something; you think that she is waiting for you to speak. You open your mouth to do just that, you do not know _what_ you are going to say only that you should probably be apologising, she does not give you a chance.

"Most people believe it to be polite to alert other people to their presence when they are getting changed, but I suppose as Commander you're not nearly as used to having to use manners or respecting other's boundaries, are you?" You think you should say something now, except you have forgotten how. "Heda, if you're in my tent you're in need of something, are you not? Make haste with your words before I freeze to death." Maybe she does not even realize that she is still holding tight onto the dagger, maybe she believes you to be a threat, as if you would kill her yourself rather than sending one of your men. You are vaguely offended, you do not say so, but rather gesture towards the blade. Clarke's eyes drop down to the exposed blade as well but she does not drop it, not completely, but rather lowers her arm. "No offense, Heda. But I feel much more comfortable having it unsheathed, do not take it as a threat or as an offense, I'm just not entirely convinced that I have no need of it just yet."

You are... Turned on. To be completely honest, the thought of Clarke armed and blood-thirsty, well it does things to you. You love the knowledge that she can protect herself, that she has grown into herself and is more confident; more strong. You try to remain impassive, though you are losing the fight to not smile in pride, you only ever wanted her to be strong and, as inadvertently as it was, she finally is because of _your_ actions. Perhaps there were better ways, less painful ways, but regardless she is ready to lead; really lead. She is ready to take her place as Chancellor kom Skaikru. You think that that may be the worst thought you have ever contemplated.

"I am no threat to you, Clarke, though I understand your need for assurance. Just promise me that you will not bury that blade into my throat until after I have spoken." You hate that you sound amused, and more than a little breathy, you cannot help it; you are incredibly ruined by this woman before you.

"I make no such promises, though I'll do my best at restraint, depending on your next words, of course." Clarke lowers the dagger completely, before once again turning around to slip her shirt back on. You realize that you never noticed from when you first entered her tent that a steaming bath had been drawn up, a part of you, a very perverse part, wishes you had stormed in moments later rather; you are quick to shut that part of you away. You gesture to the bath anyway, the air is ice and the water will cool, and turn away, making your way to the small table that sits in the middle of the tent. The table is weighed heavy with daggers and arrows, and more than a few bullets, as well as a few maps that you have never seen in Clarke's presence before. More than a few of the land maps prove to be the Mountain and the land surrounding. You would have thought Clarke would have wanted to dispose of all evidence that exposed her to that wretched mountain. Maybe you do not know Clarke as well as you once thought.

You hear the subtle sounds of clothes falling to the ground, before the revealing sound of water splashes over the sides of the metal tub, and you grip tight to the hilt of one of the daggers; your self control is slipping.

"You're free to look upon me, Heda. Take what is yours, as you always have." Her voice is as bitter as the lemons that grow in the planting seasons, though there is enough amusement to mask it to the untrained ear. "Pray, do tell me what you have come to discuss, I'm curious to know what the 'Great Heda' has so important to say that she would grace me with her presence to announce it. Is it about the alliance? Or have you got more useless questions about my time away? ...Are you curious towards my scars, Lexa?" Her voice grows soft, unassuming. "Would you like to hear of my battle with a forest hound? Or the endless beatings I received in Azgada for being the assumed lover of the Commander? How I was forced to murder their warriors so that I may return home to broker peace for my people? Come on, Lexa. You know I would not care for my life otherwise, why else would I have returned? I have sacrificed everything for my people, what more is a few men? Right?" Your blood grows cold, the hilt of the dagger becomes the blade, without your conscience knowledge, and it bites into your skin, drawing blood. Azgada? That was where Clarke had been? Held captive by the Ice Nation? You feel ill, sweat breaks out on the back of your neck, despite the cold, and your heart is racing uncontrollably.

"Nia." You practically growl. You want to abandon the tent, and gather your men, you want to ride the 3 day journey to Azgada, and then you wish to slit her throat. But Clarke's huff of a laugh brings you back to yourself.

"You're not very perceptive are you, Lexa? I was gone for months, surely you wondered how I was able to allude Ryder, when I had yet to have the proper training of a warrior?" She huffs out another laugh, it never occurred to you that she was laughing at _you_ , and yet. "I was taken 2 days after the battle, which is when I assume Ryder lost sight of me. I was at the edges of your encampment before I fled. I had meant to kill you, Commander. I had meant to slit your throat with your own blade. I believed that it would have resolved me of some of my guilt, as I was not the only one party to the fall of the Mountain; it was _your_ betrayal that left me no options. But as I came closer and closer to TonDc, I realized that I would only succeed in killing my people, and after everything I did to save them, it seemed counter-productive. So I fled, I ran like a coward before the boundary of our two camps came up before me, and just as I began to hold out hope; I was taken." You finally turn to face her, to face Clarke, but she is no longer in the bath when you do. You whirl around in a circle, only to find her where you had been standing moments before; she is stark naked, water clinging to her hair and her marred skin. You are afraid to look anywhere but her face, though you wish to make a trail with your eyes. You are more concerned that you never even heard her climb out of the tub, let alone creep around you without making a sound. She smirks at you then, almost as if party to your thoughts.

"I was trained to perfection, Heda. I can run for miles in the snow and not make a sound, the forest floor is no longer a challenge to navigate, let alone the dirt floors of a tent." Her smirk falls as she holds your eyes, you wonder if she sees your remorse, your horror. "You know, despite everything, when I was alone in my cell I often dreamt that you would come for me. That despite all the blood spilt, you would find me." Tears are finding your eyes, it takes everything to hold them back, you let her down. You let your princess down, and now she is looking at you like a stranger. It hurts more than it should. "It took me too long to realize that I couldn't be the damsel in distress anymore, that I couldn't just sit and wait for somebody to rescue me, I never had to before you, and I never will have to again. I agreed to allow them to turn me into a weapon and in return I promised to kill you." All the air rushes out your lungs and you can feel your eyes widen. How could you be so foolish? The dagger in your hand is at her throat in seconds; hers is resting at your ribcage in one. "I have _not_ come to kill you! I have had plenty of opportunities to do so already! I escaped! Or do you think that did this to my hands for fun? They were to march upon your camp in two weeks time, by which I was to have already killed you and left your armies with no one to lead them. That was my mission, so I escaped."

"How am I supposed to believe you, Clarke? How can I possibly believe anything that you say ever again?!" You are more than a little sceptical for more reasons than just Clarke, like why you haven't killed her yet; you are ashamed of your own weakness.

"Because I _told_ you, because I am _still_ here, in my most vulnerable state, and you are still _alive._ You are alive, and I am _here._ " Clarke's chest is rising and falling at a rapid pace, her eyes are wide and brimming, _finally,_ with tears and emotions; you think you see weakness in them, you think that maybe Clarke is still in there. _Your_ Clarke. You drop the blade, you hear it fall to the dirt, Clarke starts crying in earnest then, her, too, dropping her blade. You fall into her, your head resting on her bare shoulder, chest heaving, reaching for air. You fit there perfectly.

"It is time to start talking, Clarke. No more run arounds, everything, now. From the first moment you left the mountain, to the last moment before your arrival to camp, and spare no details. I will not hesitate again, if I believe that you are lying to me.

"Am can chant ur compass, Manda."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I am so sorry for my absence, school and work has sucked away all of my free time, as well as my soul.
> 
> Chapter title comes from Too Late by M83
> 
> Trigedasleng:  
> *"Heda, Skai Prisa don kom bakop." * Commander, Sky Princess has come back.  
> "Mochof, Indra. Ai na gyon au em nau." * Thank you, Indra. I will go to her now.  
> "Chit ste em op, Indra?" * What is it, Indra?  
> "Ai dula nou gaf gyon op de pah au de tombom, daun ste kom en de Prisa, Ai jos gaf meme yu au chit de prisa ste abe au. Yu gon nau teik yu passe gyon op de pah au yu sad klin, why ai ferd yu don stot au teik." * I do not want to get in the way of the heart, that is for you and the Princess, I just want to remind you of what the princess is capable of. You cannot let your feelings get in the way of your judgement, which I am afraid you have started to allow.  
> "Em pleni, Indra. Sin in yu teisa." Enough, Indra. Watch your tongue.
> 
> Azgada:  
> "Am can chant ur compass, Manda." * I will tell you everything, Commander.


	5. Fight it, take the pain, ignite it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's hands reach for another dagger, but they snag on your hands which had been resting on the table, you expect her to pull away but she doesn't seem to notice. Her eyes, and mind, somewhere else.

_"I have nothing to say to you, you slaughtered Costia for secrets she did not know, you will find the same problem if you torture me." You marvel at your own voice, you sound strong, fearless. You know you are anything but, and yet your voice does not waver or warble. You sound like Lexa._

_"Of course not, Clarke. We would never make the same mistake twice, though I think you are confused as to your presence here, or our intentions for you. We do not need the secrets of the Manda rive Grentre, we are convinced that with the coalition and the fall of the mountain, she has no secrets left to keep. No, you are here because many of the Clans are doubting Lexa's ability to lead, she abandoned her own allies to death and sacrificed her honour, many of us believe it is the time for a new Commander..." The Ice Queen steps into the cell fully, and circles your chair carefully, inspecting you as if you were an unknown insect. "The word is that you, Wanheda, single handily reaped the mountain. You display remarkable leadership and integrity, and you have the potential to be a fierce adversary and warrior. Your purpose here is to allow me and mine to train you, mould you, allow you the opportunity to reach your true potential." She comes to a stop before you again, you wish your hands were untied, you think you'd like to slap her. "Would it not be justice for your soul, and for the innocents of that mountain, if the Commander were to die for her treason? Would it not be sweet, sweet unmerciful revenge, if it were to be you who slayed the false Commander, you, her lover and her former ally? To taste you again before you shove the knife beneath her ribs, to taste her blood as she bleeds? I could show you how, together we could be unstoppable, Clarke. I can train you, just as I trained my daughter, Ontari. Once she has taken her rightful place as Commander, you could rule by her side." You feel physically ill, her **daughter**? Is she serious? Trying to marry you off to her daughter in some attempt at an alliance, in reward for killing Lexa. Your stomach rolls, and you're worried that if you had eaten at all since the Mountain you might have thrown up onto the Queen's cloak, but sadly you have not; you settle for spitting on her shoes._

_"I will **never** betray my alliance, or the Trigedakru, for one person's betrayal. I would never rule by your side, or your daughter's, as anything, let alone your assassin. I don't trust you, in fact I despise you, and I will not allow you to turn me into something I am not. Lexa did what she had to, to save her people; I am sure we have both done much worse, Queen Nia. So I am going to have to decline your 'generous' offer, and kindly tell you to go to hell." You see the blow before you feel it, you are surprised to find that it was Queen Nia herself that made the blow, not one of her warriors. You taste blood and honour, you're bleeding out your nose and you find yourself laughing, as empty as it sounds._

_"You will regret your disobedience today, Clarke. I do not give up such pursuits easily. I will be back here, every single day, until you agree to my proposition. You may not like it when I do. Do not force me to hurt you, ofsprig. I hate to see the face of my future daughter..." She reaches out a hand and strokes your face, almost lovingly. "Such a cold colour." You assume she's gesturing to the rapidly forming bruise, you are sure is forming on your face. "Nou our don." She snaps to the men, in unison they march into the protective circle around Nia, their faces impassive. "Until tomorrow, Wanheda."_

_"Noooo!"_

________________

"It was the same every day, before the sun even breached the cold of the cell, Nia would return; sometimes with food and water, other times with heated blades and leather strips. Sometimes Ontari would be with her, and more and more often as the weeks went by. Ontari was... She was cold whenever in the presence of Nia, but as Nia began to give us more time together, Ontari began to thaw. I think she respected me, respected my resolve; Nia had stolen her from her family when she was young, when she found out that she was Natblida, so that she could train her and mould her into Azgada's weapon; just as they planned to do to me. So mostly she was kind, well to me she was, I truly believe that she longed for me to join her as her _mara,_ as her houmon. But Nia was less patient, she was enraged by my constant rejection, she couldn't understand why I didn't have the will to fight back, to save myself. That was my first mistake." Clarke stands fully dressed once again, this time in some of your old sleep wear, her hair slowly drying in the smothering heat escaping from the lit fire. Her face is sombre, but she stands proud and strong, the fire illuminating her profile; she looks like a goddess, one forged from heavenly fire. "Soon she began to threaten my people, she would start with my mother, detailing all the intricate ways that she would kill her. Then she would describe the slow and torturous deaths of all my friends: Bellamy, Raven, Octavia, Monty, Miller... Jasper. It was an endless loop, and in the end she broke my will in days. After that it was like a switch flipped, suddenly I was receiving gifts, mainly just furs and clothing, and extravagant food. Soon she'd send Ontari to spend the days in my cell to talk to me, it didn't take me long to figure out what she wanted from me, so I responded in kind. I spoke to her, laughed at her stories, ate her food. Nia began to believe that there was a real connection between Ontari and me, and it wasn't long before I was moved out of the cell into her house. We would take walks around the city, it's this dark, gloomy village that lies deep underground before extending into the ocean, the snow never ceases and the water is usually frozen over. Ontari and I grew closer, but I knew that the grace period wouldn't last forever, I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, and as my injuries healed and the bruises faded I grew paranoid. Each time we took a walk we went further, always stopping before we reached the entrance of the city, I knew that that was where she wanted to take me." Clarke fiddles with one of the blades before abruptly throwing it into one of the tent supports, without breaking your gaze. "She was waiting for me to heal, or perhaps she was just waiting for me to trust her, whichever it was we didn't reach the edges of the city until about a month after my arrival there."

_______________

_"Come, Clarke. Today I have something very important to show you, I have been very patient in waiting for you to be ready and now here we are." Your eyes are blindfolded, but after spending almost a month travelling the road through the village, you have a good idea of where you are. You are beyond the steel walls that surround the city, the air is fresher here, and more frigid, than inside the city walls ever was. You wonder what purpose she has for bringing you out here, you're also sure you won't have to wait for too long, still you are impatient. Soon the snow beneath your feet turn to worn dirt trails, and the sounds of metal hitting metal becomes acknowledgeable. You're not afraid, not really, perhaps it's just because you've been lulled into a false sense of security in your weeks being doted on by Ontari and Nia, but mainly you believe that you're too curious to be fearful of the sound of sword fighting- you think you have finally placed the sound- and the  foreign tongue shouting out orders is Azgadian._

_"What is this place?" Ontari's hand is soft on yours as she tugs you slowly forward, she's shaking with excitement and apprehension, you don't think you've ever seen her as anything but cold and withdrawn; much like the Ice Nation, Ontari has always hidden behind ice walls and the protection of Nia's crown. Even as she courted you, she never allowed herself to actually **feel** , for you at least. You don't know how she feels about her people, about her 'mother's' politics, you don't know anything about how she feels about the rules or the treatment her people. Yet you know about her first kiss and her first kill, and how she misses her family. She never tells you what happened to them; but you have a pretty good guess. It always reminds you of how savage and cruel these people **really** are, well how savage they've become under Nia's rule. But now Ontari's vibrating with a mess of emotions, and you only want to see her face, to wonder at the fresh snow that falls upon your face; your wish becomes a reality and the blindfold is lifted._

_________________

"I never felt truly safe there, I was always waiting for the day when Nia's promises would become a reality, waiting for her to turn me into her weapon. When Ontari finally lifted the blindfold I found myself in a clearing, the snow blurring my vision, but I could see enough to know that Nia was there watching me. But my focus wasn't on the her, or the buildings that I could see nestled around the clearing, it was on the soldiers. There were hundreds of them, some climbing trees and nets, learning how to travel through the treetops, others shooting arrows at moving targets and never missing, and men and women training in hand-to-hand combat; some with swords and daggers, others with nothing but their strength. It was terrifying, and yet..." Clarke stops, swallows, eyes glazing over; she almost looks _aroused._ "I couldn't look away, it was memorizing. The raw power that they fought with, so _effortlessly,_ I wanted to be that confident. I wanted to be a part of something like that." Clarke's hand reach for another dagger, but they snag on your hands which had been resting on the table, you expect her to pull away but she doesn't seem to notice. Her eyes, and mind, somewhere else. "Ontari called something out, and suddenly every warrior stopped, turned to their future queen. It was then that I realized how powerful she really was, in all my time with her I realized I stopped looking at her as Nia's protégé, as the future queen; I saw her as just another girl too young to hold so much power, like you, like me. But it was then that I saw, she had the fear and respect of every single person in that clearing, just as much as Nia... And I never wanted power, I never wanted the responsibility of being a leader, but I wanted it then. I _needed_ it. I wanted to prove to them that I was worthy of being their Queen, that I was worthy of being a warrior, that I was strong enough. So I did."

_______________

_"Sola's! Eah my! Gre yom ahea Arch!" The warriors bow as one, their knees hitting the ground, those with swords rest them at their feet; an offering. You know little of the Ice Nation language, but you recognise enough, Ontari has made her affiliation public; you are hers. You don't know what you're feeling, you think that you should be angry and terrified, you think that you feel empowered. You chance a glance at Nia, expecting her to be looking at her warriors with approval, instead her eyes are on you, she looks smug and proud; powerful. Ontari tugs on your hand once more, drawing your focus away from Nia, and you meet her eyes. You see the power hungry frenzy in them for the first time, the obsessive gleam as they hold yours, and you're finally terrified._

_"They will look to you now, they will train you to be strong, so that you can never be hurt by anyone. And then when you are ready, we will lead together, and my people with love you and respect you; just as I do."_

_You're taken aback, truly, but you are empowered by her gesture; it is a great risk on her part, to risk humiliation before her warriors. You should be mad, you should remember what she and Nia did to you, remember that they threatened your people to comply with Nia's demands. But you have been powerless for far too long, depending on other people to fight your battles for you, getting them killed; allowing those with more power to dictate how you were to lead. You don't want to think of Lexa now, about how she always allowed you to make your own decisions even when she disagreed with them, but you do. Her eyes are haunting you, and that's why you turn to Nia and hold out your hand towards her, you want to hurt her; you want to hurt Lexa. You want to betray her in the worst way possible, just like she betrayed you._

_Your eyes touch Ontari's "Teach me." You whisper, but you don't mean how to fight, or to be a leader; she knows._

_"I'll show you how. I'll make you stronger, I'll never let anyone hurt you." You believe her. You turn to Nia's warriors, still on their knees before you, and you smile; just a little._

_"Geup fo my!"_

_They do, their collective rise bringing shivers to your skin. One of the warriors steps forward, you recognize him from that first day in your cell, you're wary to say the least. But he only steps to you, holding out an arm._

_"Our ar yom solas, our low ur, Manda rive Ski. Arch fo Azgada."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from Holding On To You by Twenty One Pilots
> 
> Azgada:  
> "Ofsprig." * Child  
> "Sola's! Eah my! Gre yom ahea Arch!" * Warriors! Hear me! Welcome your future Queen!  
> "Geup fo my!" * Rise for me!  
> "Our ar yom solas, our low ur, Manda rive Ski. Arch fo Azgada." * We are your warriors, we follow you, Commander from Sky. Queen of Ice Nation.


	6. Author's Note

Ok guys so here's the gist of things...

I sort of let this fic slip a little while I was finishing my last year of highschool, but with every intention of finishing it. In fact I did write another chapter before season 3 aired. But after the first couple of episodes aired I was wary of continuing, since pretty much everything I predicted would happen didn't, and I wasn't sure whether to fix the details to make them cannon, or to leave the sorry as is. But before I could decide 3x07 happened, and I know I'm not the only one who lost all inspiration to write, it honestly was so painful. I won't lie I went through some shit in result, but I've decided I wanna try again. I'm still receiving likes and comments to update, and I guess if people are still willing to read my version of what season 3 should have been, then I'm willing to continue on.  
I also know that season 3 was the shittiest writing on the show so far, even before 3x07 and especially after, the amount of plot holes and continuity mistakes was laughable. The entire season was poorly written, and I'm sorry that we were put through that. 

Anyway, I'm writing as we speak, and I hope to have a chapter up by the end of the day, I have also updated the other chapters so that the new characters and relevant information have been added.  
So please accept my sincerest apologies, I love Clarke and Lexa, and I hope to honour them and protect them in the way they should have on the show. I mean there will be angst, but I promise that no one will die.


	7. I'm Nothing without Subtle, Heartache as its best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's suddenly kneeling before you, her hands on your thighs, eyes bright in the candle light. Though thick material acts as a barrier between the skin of Clarke's hands and the skin of your thighs, you can still feel the warmth, the current of electricity that you've always been able to feel with her. It is nonsensical, but is the most real thing you have felt since she left, and though you tell yourself that you're only humouring her for the sake of your people, you know that you won't let her leave because you couldn't bare it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here it is guys.... Aah I'm so nervous, I'm sorry that it's quite short, the next chapter will hopefully be longer.  
> Please be gentle with me, I'm really rusty, I haven't written in nearly a year... Whoops.

"For days on end I trained in the sleet and snow. I wore my fingers to the bone, suffered through knives, and arrows, and spears; anything that they could use as a weapon against me. But I survived, it's how they weed out the weak after all, and we both know that I've never been allowed to be weak; not at the expense of my people..." Clarke pulls her hand out of yours you barely notice, finding yourself completely enthralled in her voice. "I never cried, not once, I never begged, never let them break me; and they respected me for it. I e _arned_ that, I earned their respect and their loyalty, she didn't need to give that to me. I once again found myself responsible for a race, for a people. I trained with them, I ate with them, I played with them; I healed them. By the time Nia came to me to honour our deal, I saw them as my family, and I had all but forgotten the one I left behind. I **had** forgotten about the deal, the deal I made to save my people, again." Clarke's eyes bare into yours, ice-blue iris' darkening into night, eyebrows furrowed, her face otherwise unresponsive; as if she were telling someone else's story. "Over and over again, I have sacrificed everything for my people. I have killed for them, I have protected them, I made a deal with the devil for them; but in all of that I tried to keep my integrity. I thought if I could convince myself that there was no other way then I would be absolved, that I could live comfortably in morally grey. But of course the earth would never be satisfied until it took everything from me."

You move to sit on her bed, completely forgetting in the moment just how suggestive sitting on someone else's bed could be construed, and Clarke tenses her eyes moving to the entrance of your tent. The spell of the moment is broken, you can see. She clears her throat, and places herself on the weapons table, braiding her hair into warrior braids; she does not seem to be aware that she is doing it as she drops her hands when she catches you staring.

"I a _m a_ warrior now, Lexa. I'm not the same person who left that mountain, I'm stronger now, faster, braver. You no longer have control over me, you are only alive right now because I am allowing it. That's not a threat, it's a fact. I have chosen peace, despite the repercussions Nia's anger could have on my people, I've chosen you. No matter how illogical, no matter how weak it makes me seem, I chose you; I chose to believe that together we could finally put an end to the Ice-Nation's tyranny. Together we have reaped a nation, we have destroyed alliances, and killed each other's warriors. Whether we be working together, or working against each other, there has always been casualties in the war between us; in the war between Skai People and Tree People. Imagine what death we would have wrought had you and I come out of the mountain victorious together, what armies we would have slain together, what rebellions we would have squashed to remain leaders. We can still have that, that natural bond that allows us to remain united, but now we can do that for the good of our people; to save them, once again. You and I may have missed our window, but this alliance still has hope; I still have hope. You don't have to trust me, Leksa. But trust your instincts of the Ice People, you know what they are capable of, they killed Costia; they pillage surrounding lands, and take children from mothers, men from families. It's time to take action. Now, that can be you, alone, with your warriors; or it can be with me and my people on your side. I know how they fight, how they move, what their tact is; I can your weapon, but on my terms. All I am asking is to not punish our people because I deceived you, in the end I told you the truth when I could have stood by and saved my people, or even worse, I could have killed you and kept my promise to Azgada and forged a new alliance."

Clarke's suddenly kneeling before you, her hands on your thighs, eyes bright in the candle light. Though thick material acts as a barrier between the skin of Clarke's hands and the skin of your thighs, you can still feel the warmth, the current of electricity that you've always been able to feel with her. It is nonsensical, but is the most real thing you have felt since she left, and though you tell yourself that you're only humouring her for the sake of your people, you know that you won't let her leave because you couldn't bare it.

"I could have torn this world apart, but I'm choosing you, Lexa. I'm choosing to let go of the pain and the betrayal, because I believe that we can still earn the right to lead our people, teach them a better way than 'jus drein jus doun'." Clarke's looking at you like you have all the answers but you have never felt so powerless, she's disarming every defence you have, tearing down every wall. Hodness laik kwelnes echoes in your ears, the voice of Titus warning you that Clarke will be your downfall, but her eyes are blue, blue, blue; and for some reason you're thinking about Luna, thinking about another way.

"Just drein nou jus doun. You may have your alliance Clarke."  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always with a new chapter comes a new song rec. Chapter title comes from Blood Orange's Chamakay.
> 
> "Jus drein nou jus daun" * Blood must not have blood.


	8. Would I Trust Fate, To Bring Back The Tide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dawn comes sooner than you like, and your eyes have yet to close, soon the sun will stream in with the start of the day and you are no more prepared for it now than you were a couple of hours ago. Somehow you know that seeing Clarke in the harsh light of day will erase any sort of intimacy, any sort of vulnerability, that was shared between the two of you last night. The adrenaline of having her close, the tremor of your hands when she touches you, the lingering looks, all of it will have to be buried beneath the heavy cloth of your Commander's armour, in preparation for departure to Polis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I'm a few days late, but at least it isn't a year this time.  
> This chapter is a bit longer than the last, but I'm sad to say turned out to be kind of a filler chapter, but there are some important self discoveries so... Enjoy?

Dawn comes sooner than you like, and your eyes have yet to close, soon the sun will stream in with the start of the day and you are no more prepared for it now than you were a couple of hours ago. Somehow you know that seeing Clarke in the harsh light of day will erase any sort of intimacy, any sort of vulnerability, that was shared between the two of you last night. The adrenaline of having her close, the tremor of your hands when she touches you, the lingering looks, all of it will have to be buried beneath the heavy cloth of your Commander's armour, in preparation for departure to Polis. Though the distance between the two of you had begun to set in even before you left her tent last night, the emotional drain from the night's revelations caused your eyelids to weigh down and your yawns to break the tension of the tent. Clarke had leapt away from you as if she would catch on fire from your touch alone, and she had barely made eye contact as she suggested that you should "Get some sleep, Commander." before walking you outside of her tent. Her dismissal had stung, but you understood, God did you ever understand. Too much still remains unspoken, too much distrust and hurt and betrayal, cutting words still lie thick on the tip of your tongues, bitter like blood. You wonder even now how long it'll take before tempers grow heated, and the words come boiling out like liquid fire. You yourself lied awake all night, thinking of the agony you felt over Clarke's betrayal with the Ice-Nation, and then you felt sick over what she must of felt as you fled the mountain; as she watched you stride away with your pride, and your people, and your bleeding heart. You decided last night that you would spend the rest of your life attempting to make it up to Clarke, you lied awake thinking of all the ways you would grovel and beg for her forgiveness, to earn her trust back you would spend the rest of your life in service to her ~~if only it meant that you would spend the rest of your life beside her~~ to absolve yourself of your guilt. But with daylight your senses come back to you and you know you could never do any of those things, you could never have enough time in the world to earn her forgiveness because, despite how much you wish you were, you're not _just_ Lexa; you are the Commander and you have a duty to your people. Clarke did not just betray you when she agreed to train under the Ice-Nation, to become an assassin for Nia, she betrayed your people. By killing you and leaving your armies defenceless, your people would have been slaughtered, or at the very least conquered by the Ice-Nation and forced to be ruled over by Nia. You owe it to them to be cautious of Clarke, to keep your distance and remain emotionally unattached. You know that Clarke will understand that Clarke _does_ understand. She knows, perhaps more than anybody, how it feels to be a barely more than child in control of a people, and what you must sacrifice to protect them. She knows the weight of your armour, and your war paint, and the Commander insignia you wear with pride on your face. Perhaps that is where your true connection with Clarke lies, with a mutual understanding and similar responsibilities, though even the daylight can't seem to erase the fact that you're undeniably attracted to her. Last night's touches were only the latest examples to reiterate that understanding, though your pining for the girl since the mountain had already made it very clear. You want to believe, no you need to believe, that it is just physical attraction, that after everything you learned last night that you couldn't still be in love with her.

It's wrong, but easier to believe than that the connection that you have felt since you laid eyes on her is powerful enough to overcome the lies, and the hurt, and the rejections. You unwillingly now think back to your mother, from what little you remember of her, with her piercing green eyes and jet black hair. Memories of your birth family are a rarity, you were so very young when you were taken from your home, bound for Polis, and every day the memories become duller and duller, until you are afraid that they may fade completely. You  have already unforgivably forgotten the sound of your father's voice, the smell of your mother's hair, the colours of your home. But one thing you are sure you will never forget, the thing you thought of just now, is your mother's voice singing the story of Alexander and Amara, the _smallai defi hodkru in_ , star crossed lovers or _keryon lukot_ , soul mates. Alexander had been the grandchild of the first Commander, or so the song says, back in the years before the night blood became common enough to require the Conclave, back when the first born of the Commander would inherit the spirit. Alexander, as the second born child of the Commander, had no duties to his people from birth. He grew without the burden, and lived as a young boy should. Of course he still trained and learned how to fight, studied history and the languages of the mountain people; but one substantial freedom was granted to him that could not be granted to his older brother, he was free to love who he wanted to love. But as he grew older none of the girls in his tribe could catch the young man's attention, he was adventurous and spontaneous, and often aimless. His focus swayed easily, and he travelled often to sate his boredom. One night he happened across a village just past the Azgada territory where he was ambushed by thieves, he was wounded terribly and left to die, but his cries were heard by a nearby passerby. The passerby ran to Alexander, and upon seeing his injuries ran to her father for help. Together they carried him to their cabin, and the girl tended to Alexander's injuries, saving his life. By the time he woke the father was gone, and the girl sat alone singing softly to him. Alexander was struck by her beauty and fell in love with her instantly. The girl, Amara, nursed him back to health and after a short amount of time together she soon, too, fell in love. After Alexander went home to assure his family of his wellbeing, he returned back to the village and continued to see Amara in secret, as they knew her father would never approve. They continued their affair for many months before Alexander made it known to his parents that he would like to wed the Azgadian healer, which they approved of immensely, believing that it would help solidify an alliance between the two clans. But they never did get to marry, a month after he proposed Alexander's older brother, Demetri, was killed by an Azgada assassin. Heartbroken, Demetri's father declared war on Azgada, and Alexander was forbidden from being with Amara. Instead he was groomed to be the next Commander, and after his father's passing, wed a prominent daughter from his tribe. Years passed but Alexander never forgot his lost love, and when Azgada's new king reached out to him after his ascension to the throne, in an attempt to broker peace, he agreed to unite the two clans in her name. He arranged a meeting with Azgada's king, but to his surprise it was Amara who appeared to arrange a peace, the bone crown of Azgada settled onto her golden hair. She was there in place of her husband, the king, to see whether an arrangement could be made to end the war they inherited from their fathers. Alexander agreed to a peace on the condition that Demetri's killer would be brought to the Trikru, to die under their swords in justice for their destined Commander's murder; and thus blood must have blood was born. Amara agreed to the terms, and the assassin was to be brought to Polis. In the time waiting Amara deigned to stay with the Trikru, and it wasn't long before Alexander and Amara were lost once again in their forbidden love and continued an affair during Amara's time in Polis. Despite knowing how dangerous and wrong it was, they felt a pull to one another and couldn't force themselves apart, remaining hidden in the cover of dark and stealing moments whenever they could. Alexander came to believe that it was the spirit of the earth that drew them together, that they were destined to be in love for all time, and that was why they kept finding each other. So it was a devastating shock when the King of Azgada arrived at Polis, with Demetri's killer in hand, to reclaim his wife and their treaty. Alexander was heartbroken, knowing that his duty to his people had to come before the love of his life, and Amara was once again torn away from him. The song ends with Amara riding away from the capitol, her blonde hair catching sunlight as it ran wild in the breeze, taking Alexander's heart with her. But in the story told by your father their legacy was far from over, a few months after she left Polis it was discovered that she was with child, and Azgada rejoiced at the news of having an heir. It wasn't until many, many years later when the King died, that the Azgada people rose against Amara's son's claim for the crown. Many believed that he was truly Alexander's son, and therefore had no right to the Azgada throne. But of course there was no proof and thus he was crowned the next King of Azgada. But the Azgada people continued to distrust him, and rebelled against the treaty holding the peace, which caused an uprising. So once again the two clans were at war, and have been ever since. Well until you came to ascension, and formed the coalition.

But the return of your mother's voice, singing the story to you, makes you think again of Clarke; about how she was born in the stars and you on the ground. About how you never should have met, the impossibility of it all, and yet there she had been; the blood and ashes of your soldiers beneath her fingernails, the flames of war dancing in her hair, and the promise of peace in her storm ridden eyes. You think about how you never should have met, about how she was never supposed to fall from the sky, but Alexander's and Amara's love reminds you of a higher power. How can you not believe that the universe is trying to tell you that you two are destined, when all it has done is ensured that you would find a way to each other. Had Clarke's father not found the flaw in the ark, had Clarke not found what he planned to do with the information, had she not been locked up for knowing what he knew and in resulted landed on Earth. Had she not assumed the role of leader to her people, or set fire to their lands, or insulted Anya into declaring war. Had she not survived it all and then been captured by the mountain, with Anya, only to escape the mountain, with Anya. Had she not negotiated her way into your tent, with only Anya's braid, her plea for peace and the claim that she could heal your people from becoming Reapers. Had Clarke been anyone but Clarke, it never could have happened. But Clarke _is_ who she is, she's ruthless and compassionate, stubborn and caring, manipulative and selfless. That's why you- That's why you can't give up on her, that's why you are allowing yourself to trust her, because she's your soul mate. There is no other explanation, you two are destined, and together you know that you can finally end this war. With Clarke by your side, despite all the odds, nothing seems impossible anymore.

"Lexa?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from Motion Sickness by my most favourite band of all time Hands like houses. 
> 
> All the trigedasleng is self explanatory I think.


End file.
